


What You Know

by IWriteSinsNotStraightLines



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (mentioned) Claudia Stilinski, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27380914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteSinsNotStraightLines/pseuds/IWriteSinsNotStraightLines
Summary: He’d asked him if he was okay at the beginning of the pack night- it hadn’t taken him very long to figure that something was up- but Stiles had just given him an empty grin and brushed him off, a “Don’t you worry about me, Sourwolf. I’m just tired.”Well, it was too late for that-- he was already concerned.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 12
Kudos: 259





	What You Know

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! Hope you're all doing well. 
> 
> Here's some gratuitous Sterek hurt/comfort and fluff because what else am I good for? 
> 
> The title comes from "What You Know" by Two Door Cinema Club.

Something was wrong with Stiles. 

Derek watched him carefully, mouth twisted into a frown. He was acting mostly normal- and faking it well enough that the rest of the pack was oblivious- but he could still see he wasn’t alright. 

It was obvious to him, easy to see in the sharp, still lines of Stiles’ body- which was so often clumsy and eternally in motion- and the way his smile was forced and didn’t quite meet the warm brown of his eyes. It was easy to smell in the dry note that had subtly appeared in his scent, tainting the typical cinnamon-storms-wind scent like ashes. It was easy to hear in the way his heart beat slightly faster over lies, and tripped over nothing, like he was anxious or scared. 

Something was wrong. 

He’d asked him if he was okay at the beginning of the pack night- it hadn’t taken him very long to figure that  _ something _ was up- but Stiles had just given him an empty grin and brushed him off with a “Don’t you worry about me, Sourwolf. I’m just tired.” 

Well, it was too late for that-- he was  _ already _ concerned. 

The movie they were watching- some kind of romantic comedy that Scott and Lydia had agreed on, Derek wasn’t really paying attention- was drawing to a close, and he could practically  _ feel  _ the tension in Stiles’ shoulders. 

Boyd turned the lights back on as it ended, and he shook himself out of his Stiles-obsessed bubble long enough to help them clean up the various soda cans, plates and pizza boxes piled on the coffee table. 

He bid the pack good night as they all left- yawning and hanging on to each other, so much like a family that it made his chest ache- but he caught Stiles’ wrist, holding him back. 

Stiles quirked an eyebrow at him, but didn’t comment as he dragged him back towards the kitchen, motioning for him to sit on a bar stool as he did the dishes. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” Stiles said, but Derek could hear the lie in his pulse. He would be able to tell even if he couldn’t. 

“Stop pretending to be okay when I  _ know _ you’re not, Stiles. What’s wrong?” 

Stiles mumbled something unkind about werewolf hearing under his breath and crossed his arms, his scent becoming sour and defensive. 

Derek softened, “I’m not going to force you. But I can tell that  _ something’s  _ bothering you-- just because the betas didn’t notice that you’ve been off all night doesn’t mean I didn’t.” 

He watched as Stiles sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, his shoulders sagging as Derek rinsed the suds off a plate he’d been washing. 

“And here I was thinking I was doing a good job at hiding it,” he said, his lips lifting at the corner without humor. 

“You were. But I  _ know _ you, Stiles.” 

“Unfortunately,” he muttered. 

Derek rolled his eyes, setting the dish on the drying rack. 

There were a few moments of silence before he spoke again, “It’s my mom’s birthday tomorrow.” His voice was quiet, and carefully toneless. 

Derek looked up at him. 

Now that he wasn’t actively trying to hide it, it almost hurt to look at him. There was pain and grief and misery in his mouth, his face, his posture. He looked dull, motionless, and so different than usual. 

“Oh, pup,” he took a hand towel off the hook by the stove to dry his hands. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

He shrugged, “I don’t know. It’s not- normally, it’s just me and my dad who think about it, y’know? Usually, we spend the day together. Go to the cemetery and visit her. But he’s working this year. Wanted to keep busy.” He swallowed. “I don’t blame him. It’s hard for him. But-” He cut himself off. 

Derek rounded the counter to wrap his arms around him, tugging him into an embrace. 

“But you don’t want to be alone?” he finished for him. 

Stiles pressed his face into his shirt, nodding. Derek sighed, keeping him close with one arm around his hips and the other cupping the back of his neck. 

He could smell the salt in the air and feel Stiles shaking before he actually realized that he was crying. 

“Shh, baby, I’ve got you. It’s okay to cry,” he whispered into his hair. 

Stiles let himself go, choked-off sobs rattling his chest and making him quiver against Derek. He held him through it, tracing little patterns into his back. 

When Stiles finally calmed a little, his scent going from wretched suffering to a more subtle, softer kind of pain, he pressed his cheek to the top of his head, his breaths ruffling his hair. 

“I can stay with you, if you want. We can go to the cemetery, or hang out here. It’s up to you.” 

Stiles peered up at him, his amber eyes wide and wet, “You would do that for me? You hate it there.” 

“Yeah. But I love you more. If you want me with you, I’ll be there.” 

“That sounds nice,” he said, shifting until he could press a kiss to Derek’s cheek, his lips smooth and warm against his skin. 

“Is your dad working now?” he asked. 

Stiles shook his head, “He’s asleep though. He got off his shift before I left.” 

Derek hummed, “You want me to drive you home?” 

He paused, biting his lip while he thought about it until Derek drew it out from between his teeth with his thumb. 

“Can I- can I stay here? With you?” 

“Of course, Stiles. You’re always welcome here.” 

Stiles smiled at him- small, cautious, fragile- and took his hand, squeezing gently before dragging him up the stairs to his bedroom. 

They were barely in the door before he was toeing off his Converse next to Derek’s dresser. He stripped off his flannel overshirt and jeans, draping them both over a laundry basket in the corner. 

He bent over- Derek totally didn’t stare at his ass, shut up- and fished a pair of his basketball shorts out of a drawer he’d claimed for his own when they’d started dating. 

He pulled them on and promptly collapsed into his bed, burrowing under the covers. 

Derek rolled his eyes and tugged his own shirts and pants off, expertly launching them into the laundry before joining Stiles in his boxers, the smell of himself and Stiles blending into something he could easily become addicted to. 

He kept his distance at first, waiting patiently until Stiles came to him, pushing himself into the warmth of Derek’s arms. 

He nuzzled at his hair, whispering softly, “Everything’s going to be okay."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed that! Feedback is always appreciated :) 
> 
> Until next time,  
> \- Sins
> 
> Find my Tumblr at: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/iwritesinsnotstraightlines


End file.
